


Degeneration

by kowaiyoukai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-War, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Dark, Future Fic, Insanity, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Not Happy, Pole-Dancing, Self-Harm, St. Mungos, Strap-Ons, Unhappy Ending, Yes I did put those tags together like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-28
Updated: 2005-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kowaiyoukai/pseuds/kowaiyoukai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is dedicated to tehgenius for the miettes_desmots November Cookie challenge, which can also be found on the <b>SS Guns ‘n Handcuffs</b> over at <a href="http://www.fictionalley.org">Fiction Alley</a>. Beta’d by gher’s muse and Quelle. *shags both*</p>
<p>Rach’s request was for the keywords “leather”, “pole”, and “smurf” and the dialogue line "The voices in my head are snoring." So of course, I got the insane S&M sex challenge of the month. Although, somehow it’s not S&M sex at all, but somehow still pr0ny. Oh, well. ^_^*</p>
<p>Warning: This contains pole-dancing, strap-ons, insanity, and sort-of cutting. I am on fucking drugs, or should be. 0_@;; And before you all bitch about it, <i>yes</i>, I <i>am</i> thinking about writing a sequel to this one. Shockingly enough.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Degeneration

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to tehgenius for the miettes_desmots November Cookie challenge, which can also be found on the **SS Guns ‘n Handcuffs** over at [Fiction Alley](http://www.fictionalley.org). Beta’d by gher’s muse and Quelle. *shags both*
> 
> Rach’s request was for the keywords “leather”, “pole”, and “smurf” and the dialogue line "The voices in my head are snoring." So of course, I got the insane S&M sex challenge of the month. Although, somehow it’s not S&M sex at all, but somehow still pr0ny. Oh, well. ^_^*
> 
> Warning: This contains pole-dancing, strap-ons, insanity, and sort-of cutting. I am on fucking drugs, or should be. 0_@;; And before you all bitch about it, _yes_ , I _am_ thinking about writing a sequel to this one. Shockingly enough.

Music pounded like a migraine in his head. A singular spotlight that focused on the movement of his body blinded him, inadvertently altering his perception of the crowd. The room was small, barely the size of a classroom. Bar on one side, the empty space in front of the stage, and any extra room filled with tables and chairs. As usual, the space directly in front of the stage was crawling with people, pushing, grasping at air, holding out extra money while shouting and begging for him to notice them. His act was what many of the patrons had come for, and just thinking of the money that he would earn in the next few minutes allowed him to ignore the tight, chafing feel of the leather pants that molded to his body like clay.

Draco held onto the pole with both hands, gripping it firmly. He closed his eyes and let a smile come across his face, waiting for the cheering to grow louder before he dragged his tongue across his lips and opened his eyes. He drew his body closer to the pole and threw his head back until his slender, pale neck was exposed to the audience. He rotated his hips so that he was repeatedly pressing his groin against the pole, exaggerating the motion by bending his knees and rolling his shoulders. He pulled himself flush against the pole and turned until his back was against it. He faced the crowd and smiled, running his tongue along his teeth. Then he bent his knees and crouched low to the ground, still gripping the pole behind him. He thrust his hips upward forcefully, much to the delight of the people reaching for him. Draco repeated the motion again and again, jerking upwards and then back downwards in a mimicry that made the crowd scream. Finally he pulled himself upright, fluidly, and planted one foot steadily on the ground next to the pole. He then wrapped his other leg around the pole and let himself fall back. The motion locked the pole into the bend of his knee and had him slanting backwards. He rotated his hips and placed his hands, now free of holding the pole, on his upper thighs. He dragged them up until they were framing his groin, and then he pushed his pelvis out even more, bucking until the shrieking grew to a fevered pitch. He ran both hands over himself, fingers curling around the bulge in the leather, and began panting heavily. Draco continued the motion while letting his foot slide further and further away from the pole. He slowly lowered until he was laying face-up on the wooden stage, and then he unhooked his knee from the pole and rolled onto his side. The vantage point made the crowd gasp and shout, hands still thrusting money in his direction. Draco let his hand move up and down quickly, using his other hand to run along his bare chest and tug at a nipple. He then moved until he was facing the audience, laid down on his back, and drew his knees up and away from his body, exposing the sight of his hands moving over the material on his crotch. The ending notes of the song began, so he bucked upwards once, twice, and shuddered as the lights went out.

Draco stood up and went offstage, moving quickly to avoid being caught when the lights came back on. He nodded to three people as they passed; two of them were responsible for collecting the money from the crowd, and the other was the next act. His eyes traveled to the cowboy hat on top of the man performing next act, and they rolled their eyes together before swiftly traveling their separate ways.

The backstage was just enough room to get changed and separate money in, which was fine for everyone involved. Draco quickly went into the bathroom and shucked off his leather pants. He removed the strap-on with some distaste, dropping it on the floor next to the leather pants. It was uncomfortable to wear and forced him to position his own actual penis in odd ways, which led to him being in a foul mood when he got home.

Which didn’t help matters at all.

Still, Draco knew he needed the money. He needed the money so badly he was reduced to dancing to horrendous music and acting like he enjoyed masturbating with a strap-on in front of completely hysterical women and the occasional man. It was a bloody crime that he needed money that badly. He knew there was nothing for it, but he’d rather have continued his work at the Ministry. True, it didn’t pay nearly as well, but it had kept him occupied and energetic. Now, all he felt was drained.

A loud banging on the door sounded, followed by a harsh voice demanding entrance. Draco pulled on his boxers, jeans, and sweater quickly. He grabbed his costume from the floor and opened the door, snarling at the man waiting on the other side.

“All yours,” he said, making a rude gesture towards the bathroom. The guy shouldered passed him without a word. “Asshole,” Draco muttered under his breath.

“Fighting with your coworkers?” Draco’s manager slithered into view, showing off his fake smile with pride.

Draco shrugged, tossing his hair out of his eyes as he did so. “They annoy me. As do you. What do you want?”

The manager laughed. “Oh, come on. Here’s your wages for the night.”

“With tips?”

“Of course. Would I try to cheat you?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Hmm.” He took the money from outstretched hands and counted it twice before pocketing it. He made to leave, but then stopped. “Listen, about the costume…”

“Oh, not this again.” The manager sighed and stuck his hands into his pockets.

“I really don’t see why I need this,” Draco said, holding the strap-on out towards the manager.

“If you could get it up, you wouldn’t.”

Draco glared and shoved the pile of clothing at him. “So prostrating myself in front of horny women doesn’t turn me on. Big fucking deal.”

“It is when you’re here.” The manager dropped the costume on the floor and crossed his arms. “You need to look like you’re hard. That’s it.”

Draco gritted his teeth. “I hate that bloody thing.”

The manager shrugged. “So get it up, then.”

Draco glared and turned around. He strode away quickly, tossing his hair over his shoulder.

“See you tomorrow, then?”

Draco glared over his shoulder and sneered at his manager who only smiled back at him. He opened the door and closed it behind him quickly. The side entrance was the only safe way into and out of the building, especially since the front tended to be mobbed with people before, during, and after performances. The back entrance could be used occasionally, but a lot of regulars had figured out long ago that the performers left using it. The side entrance was hidden by a well-placed dumpster. It was easily overlooked, and Draco relied on that for making his escape.

He had just passed into the alleyway when a girl’s voice echoed around the narrow alley.

“Excuse me?”

He turned around, raising an eyebrow. A woman stood about ten feet away from him, looking flushed and uncomfortable. Draco vaguely recognized her from the club, which meant she was a semi-regular at least. He stood there, waiting for her to speak. When the silence went on for too long, he turned back around and began to walk away.

“No! Wait! Don’t go yet!”

Draco rolled his eyes and turned to face her once more. “What is it, then?”

The woman’s cheeks were suffused with pink. “Are you… do you… can I…”

Draco exhaled loudly and placed a hand on his hip. “If that’s all, I really have to be going.”

She took a deep breath and said, “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?” Her face grew even redder as she spoke, tightly clenching her hands at her sides.

His hand dropped from his hip. “No.”

She blinked. “Um… sorry?”

Draco smirked at her. “I’m seeing someone.”

The woman nodded quickly, backing away. “Oh, right, of course you are. I just thought that—ha ha, well, I don’t know what I thought, but—” Draco cleared his throat and pointedly stared at her. “Right then, I’ll just be going.” She backed up a few more steps until she almost tripped over an empty soda can that had been rolling around on the pavement. Then she gave a little nervous laugh and turned around, practically running out of the alley.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. If the situation was different, he would have turned her down gently, but as it was… Well. There was no helping it now. He checked over his shoulder to make sure he was alone before closing his eyes. A loud pop echoed in the alleyway.

Seconds later, the woman came back, panting. She ran further into the alleyway, turning her head every which way. Her brow furrowed.

“Hello?”

Her voice came back to her clearly. It was not the response she had been expecting. She looked around again, but eventually her shoulders slumped. She left the alleyway, wondering where he could have gone in such a short amount of time.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The door creaked open, announcing his presence before he could say a word. Draco closed it behind him and walked over to the bed. He eyed the man lying on it critically, checking for any signs of damage. Harry was resting on his side, facing the window. The curtains were drawn, but the __expression on his face informed Draco that even if they had been open, the brunette’s eyes would not have seen the view.

“Harry?” Draco’s voice was low and soothing, similar to the voice he used with well-paying customers, only missing the seductive edge that he knew would be misplaced here.

Harry didn’t respond. Draco closed his eyes and inhaled. He let his shoulders sag and exhaled slowly, gaining some form of contentment through the motion. After several seconds, Draco opened his eyes and found Harry staring at him.

“You’re home.”

Draco nodded. “I just got in.”

“I watched the telly today.”

“Did you?”

Harry’s eyes glazed over, seeing something Draco wouldn’t ever be able to. “There were these little blue guys. . . and they lived in mushrooms and wore floppy hats. . .” Harry trailed off, mouth still moving but making no sound.

Draco sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over Harry’s arm. “That’s nice, Harry.”

Harry’s mouth kept moving, and after some time he said, “. . . There was only one girl, though. . . She was probably a slut.”

Draco burst out laughing. “Really?”

Harry looked up at him and nodded. “She had sex with all of them. . . How else were there so many Smurfs?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Harry. I guess you’re right.”

“I’m right.”

“She was definitely a slut, then.”

“Definitely right,” Harry muttered, head falling back down on the pillow.

“Definitely,” Draco agreed. He leaned over and pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead.

“’M sleepy,” Harry said, yawning.

Draco pulled away. “Then go to sleep, silly.”

He stayed to make sure Harry fell asleep, and then he stayed to make sure Harry wouldn’t hurt himself, and then he didn’t know why he stayed, but he did anyway.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Draco, what are you doing?”

Draco looked over at Blaise and smirked. “Making tea. Surely even your small mind could have figured that out by now.”

Blaise narrowed his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m sure I don’t, actually.”

Blaise scraped his chair across the floor and stood up. “With Harry, damn it. What are you doing with him?”

Draco slammed the cupboard open and rummaged around inside. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean—God damn it, Draco, look at me!” Blaise strode towards Draco and whipped him around.

“Get the fuck off me, Blaise!”

“No!” Blaise squeezed his hands on Draco’s shoulders and shook him twice, hard. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?!” Draco screamed, practically spitting in Blaise’s face.

Blaise stopped shaking him and leaned closer. “Taking care of him,” he said, voice quiet.

“Because.”

“Draco—”

“Because I want to, okay?!” Draco shouted, slamming the cupboard closed.

“You forgot to take out the teacups,” Blaise pointed out.

“Fuck the teacups!” Draco yelled, pushing Blaise back until his back hit the kitchen table. “Why does everyone think they have a fucking say in my life?!”

“Draco, we just—”

“No! Fuck you!” Draco took a step towards Blaise and then another. “What the fuck do you all _want_ from me?!”

Harry walked into the room, a bewildered look on his face. He looked back and forth between Draco and Blaise before moving to Draco’s side.

“What’s going on?” he asked. His voice was clear and sure, and Draco could have cried with relief.

“Nothing, Harry, nothing,” Draco said.

“There were voices. They were louder than the telly. I just. . .” Harry blinked and looked at Blaise. Then his gaze returned to Draco and he asked, “Do you need my help with something?”

“No, Harry, I’m fine,” Draco said, taking him by the hand and leading him out of the kitchen. He took Harry back to the living room and sat him down on the couch. “Go back to watching the telly, okay?”

Draco walked back into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together. He glared at Blaise as soon as they made eye contact, and Blaise held up his hands in the universal gesture of surrender. Draco walked to the cupboard and took out three teacups before filling them with the now scalding hot tea.

“Draco?”

“Yeah?” Draco replied, setting the teapot back onto the stove with a clack.

“You don’t own a telly.”

Draco glared at Blaise and shoved one of the teacups at him. “I know that,” he snapped.

“Just checking,” Blaise said. He took the teacup and sipped at it, then whipped it away from his mouth and hissed. “’S hot.”

“Good.” Draco walked past him into the living room and put one of the teacups onto the table in front of Harry. “Be careful, it’s hot.” Harry made a shushing noise, waved a hand in his direction, and peered intensely at the empty space in front of him. Draco sighed and returned to the kitchen.

“He should be in St. Mungo’s.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Draco slammed his cup down onto the kitchen table.

“It’s where he _belongs_ , Draco.”

“It’s none of your bloody business!”

“It _is_ my—”

“No, it _isn’t_ —”

“You’re my friend, Draco, I can’t just—”

“Shut up, Blaise!” Draco scowled at him. “Would you just shut up?”

Blaise stared at Draco for a minute before finally nodding. “All right.”

Draco waited a moment and blinked. “Well then. Good.” There was silence for a minute until Draco sat down at the table and pulled over a stack of mail.

“What’s all that?” Blaise asked, taking his original seat across the table from Draco.

The blonde shrugged. “Bills.”

Blaise raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were in the clear?”

Draco nodded. “Well, yeah. But they keep coming every month, you know.” Draco ripped off the top of one envelope and pulled out the paper inside. He exhaled when he saw the amount written there and shook his head.

Blaise grabbed it out of his hands, ignoring Draco’s indignant protest. “What is this, the rent?” he asked.

Draco grabbed the paper out of his hands and stuffed it back inside the envelope. “No, you git, that’s the medical.”

“Medical?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “For his meds.” He shook his head and set the bill aside, moving to open another one.

Blaise blinked. “That’s. . . really expensive, Draco.”

Draco snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“How are you making enough money to—” Blaise clamped his mouth shut at the look on Draco’s face. “I know, I know, you don’t like to talk about your work. Sorry.” Draco nodded, satisfied, and Blaise couldn’t help but add, “It’s got to be something really outrageous, though, otherwise you’d have told me.” He snapped his fingers in between them. “Wait a minute! You’re a covert operations guy, aren’t you? You spend all of your free time hunting down dangerous men and women and killing them with your bare hands.”

Draco smirked. “Something like that.”

The echo of porcelain breaking was immediately followed by two chairs scraping across the floor and footsteps pounding down the hallway.

“Harry?!” Draco turned the corner to the living room and seemed to teleport to Harry’s side. He grabbed Harry’s arm in one hand and the glass shard with the other. “I told you not to do this anymore.” His voice cracked as he said it, and he sucked in air directly afterwards.

Harry was twisting his arm in Draco’s grip. “Let me go!” The blood from the small cut on his forearm ran onto Draco’s hand, and the blonde unconsciously shivered. “I said let me go!”

“No.” Draco’s voice was calm even though his throat seemed unable to work right.

“Why won’t you just let me get it off?!” Harry shrieked, tugging on his arm even harder.

“It’s not there, Harry! It’s not there, okay?!” Draco held on tighter.

“Yes, it is! Yes, it is!” Harry thrashed about, reaching with his free hand for another ceramic shard.

Draco tugged him closer, pulling Harry tightly against his own chest. “No, it’s not, Harry! Okay? Do you understand me? It’s not there!”

Harry’s free hand clutched tightly at Draco’s left forearm. “It _is_ there! It’s _there_! I see it! All the time—it’s there!”

“No, it’s not! Harry, it’s not!”

“Why won’t you believe me?!” Harry shrieked. He buried his head into Draco’s shoulder and shuddered. Draco felt Harry’s mouth move and leaned in closer to hear what he was saying. “. . . can too. . . it’s there. . . I know it is. . . you’ve got one. . . why don’t you believe me?”

Draco blinked and swallowed. “Oh. . . baby, listen. . . I know, I know I’ve got one, but you don’t, okay? You don’t have one and you never will.”

Harry’s mouth continued moving on top of Draco’s shoulder, but his words were mute. Draco let the shard he had been holding drop to the floor and wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist.

“I’ll just be going, then.”

Draco’s head snapped up. He blinked and peered at Blaise. Then he nodded and jerked his head towards the door. “Right. . . right then. You know the way out.”

Blaise walked to the front door and grabbed his coat. He turned around to say something meaningful, something that would help, but then he saw how white Draco’s knuckles were and the shiny trails that fell down his cheeks and he ended up leaving without saying a word.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. Work had been hell; work was _always_ hell, but for some reason it had been more awful than usual. He titled his head back and closed his eyes. He would quit if there was any other way he could make even near the amount of money he needed, but there were no other options. Draco had been forced to go to the Muggle world to look for work after he had been accused of being a Death Eater. All the charges against him had been dropped, but the distrust and suspicions of the wizarding world lingered everywhere he went and prevented him from acquiring a decent job. When a muggle had come up to him with an offer of an easy job with great pay, he had taken him up without thinking twice about it. Once he learned everything the job entailed, he had been hesitant to actually do it. There was money there, though, and lots of it. In fact, there was enough to keep him out of debt and still have some left over for frivolous things that kept his hands occupied while his mind circled endlessly.

Harry. It had always been about Harry, from the first day they had met when they were eleven and clothed in robes five sizes too big for them. They had gotten together some time after Harry had left Hogwarts, much to the chagrin of the entire population of the wizarding world. Yet Harry had never complained, even when people sneered at him as he passed and cursed him to his face. Draco had always gotten upset, but Harry had only shrugged and said he was used to it.

After Harry killed the Dark Lord, Draco had thought things would get better. And they had, for a time. Wizards and witches had bestowed favor and praise upon him, lavishing him with grateful words and shining eyes. Harry had been embarrassed, but Draco could only marvel at how much public opinion could change literally overnight.

Then Harry had disappeared. Draco had panicked, using all of his resources to search for his lover. When Harry had finally been found, by Ministry officials no less, his mind had already been broken. Draco had been told that a group of Death Eaters had captured Harry and used Cruciatus on him. No one could prove that theory, the Death Eaters were never caught, and Harry was left with severe mental trauma.

There were days when Draco could barely stand to look at him. Harry’s eyes would look at something that wasn’t there, stare so intently at it that Draco had to fight the urge to turn and look as well. Harry would speak about things so completely foreign that Draco could only nod and let his mind wander, too confused and unsure to even begin to try to understand what Harry was saying. Sometimes Harry would lie on his bed all day, unmoving, until Draco forced him to get up and eat or shower or use the bathroom or whatever else needed doing. Occasionally Draco would find Harry attempting to cut himself, shrieking about things that weren’t there and people he swore he had just spoken to. Most days contained a little of everything, which was a lifestyle Draco was getting tired of. He was getting tired of Harry living a life he didn’t understand. He was getting tired of being unable to help Harry when his mind turned against him. He was getting tired of living through days when Harry had no recollection of their relationship, showed no signs of his personality, and seemed to become an entirely different person altogether.

As Draco walked into the kitchen, he could tell this would not be one of those days.

Harry was standing over the stove, slowly rotating a spoon in a pot that held some sort of sauce. He looked over as Draco entered and smiled.

“Draco. You’re home.”

Draco’s shoulders sagged and a laugh escaped before he could stop it. He sniffed and blinked a few times. “Yeah,” he said, swallowing. “I am.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that night, Draco was lying next to Harry on the brunette’s bed. His arms were wrapped around Harry’s body, which was fitted against him like a second skin. He breathed in deeply, letting Harry’s musky scent cloud his mind. There weren’t enough moments like this. Not nearly enough.

“Draco?” Harry’s voice drifted on the air, and Draco yawned before replying.

“Yeah?” He tightened his hold on Harry and nuzzled into his hair.

“Are you going to sleep with me tonight?”

A lazy smile appeared on Draco’s face. “I thought I just had.” He chuckled and let his eyes fall shut. “Of course, if you want another go. . .”

Harry turned around so that he was facing Draco and smirked at him. “I don’t mean like that, you horny git. I meant only sleeping.”

“Only sleeping?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Just falling asleep next to me.” His gaze drifted down and away from Draco’s. “We never fall asleep next to each other anymore.”

“Harry,” Draco said, sighing. “You know this isn’t easy for me. I hated having to make a second bedroom, you know that.”

Harry titled his head back up. “I know, but. . . well, I’m all right tonight, aren’t I?”

Draco leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. “Yes, you are. But what about tomorrow, Harry? What if you wake up and don’t remember us?”

Harry shook his head. “That won’t happen.”

“Harry. . .”

“Draco, listen to me. I’m telling you. That won’t happen.” Harry’s voice was firm, but Draco could detect the undercurrent of uncertainty.

Draco kissed Harry lightly, just a brush of lips against lips. “You know I want to be with you more than anything. But I can’t risk it, Harry. _We_ can’t risk it.”

“But I—”

“Harry,” Draco whispered, and Harry quieted. “What if something happened? You might hurt yourself . . . or me. We can be together all the time when you’re like this, but when you’re not . . .”

There was silence for a few minutes. Draco expected a reply, was waiting for one, and felt tension slowly seep out of his body when Harry didn’t speak. It was always hard when Harry was back to normal, simply because he never seemed to understand why they had to live a certain way. Draco had accepted the necessity of separate bedrooms long ago, after Draco had been woken from a peaceful sleep by two hands closing and tightening around his throat painfully. Harry never remembered incidents like that. He knew they happened, and he knew he was on medication, but he never seemed to completely grasp the entire situation. Then again, Draco found that he hadn’t entirely grasped the situation yet, so it wasn’t very fair for him to expect Harry to.

“If . . .” The whispered word surprised him, and Draco concentrated on what Harry was saying. “If I’m that much of a . . . _burden_ to you . . . then why are you still here?”

Draco blinked. “Huh?”

Harry looked at him, eyes blazing. “Why am I still here, Draco? Why are you still taking care of me?”

Draco gaped at him. He closed his mouth and whispered, “Because I love you.”

Harry’s lips trembled and he swallowed thickly. “I love you, too.” He kissed Draco, letting it linger on. Eventually, he pulled away and said, “But you can’t keep on doing this.”

“Doing what?” Draco asked, incredulous. “Taking care of you?”

“Yes.” Harry laid his cheek against Draco’s shoulder. “I’m only holding you back.”

“What? No,” Draco replied, shaking his head.

“No, Draco, I am, I know I am.” Harry swallowed. “Maybe you should get someone to help you?”

Draco laughed. “Harry, you don’t understand.”

“No, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now,” Harry said. His voice grew stronger as he warmed to his topic. “You really should have some help, so that you can relax every now and again.”

Draco shook his head. “I can’t, Harry.”

“Why not?” Harry’s tone was petulant, almost demanding, and Draco smiled at it.

“We can’t afford it,” Draco said, shrugging. “There’s barely enough money now for all the expenses we’ve got.”

Harry’s eyebrows drew together. “Are we in some kind of financial trouble?”

“Oh, no,” Draco said with a shake of his head. “No. But we don’t have enough money to hire the kind of help you would need.” Draco waited for a response, but the silence stretched out until finally he asked, “Harry?”

“Er, sorry,” Harry said, laughing. “The voices in my head are snoring. Rather loudly, might I add.”

Draco sucked in a breath. “Oh . . . um, well then, I—”

Harry continued laughing. “That was a joke, you daft git.”

Draco exhaled. “That’s not fair, Harry. You can’t joke with me about things like that.”

Harry grinned. “Sure I can. I just did.”

Draco flipped over and pinned Harry to the bed. “You do realize I’ll have to punish you for that.”

Harry arched up and licked Draco’s nose. “When will I ever learn?”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco heard the bedroom door shut and reached over to grab his bookmark. He marked his place and closed the novel, eyes intent on the hallway. Not a second later, Hermione entered the room, crossed to the couch, and sat down next to Draco.

“How is he?” Draco asked.

“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” Hermione said. “He’s staring out the window.”

Draco shrugged. “Yeah, he does that sometimes.” Draco cleared his throat. “So where’s Weasley?”

Hermione gave a small smile. “Oh, he’s at work. He’ll probably come by to visit later.”

“Hm.”

She frowned. “You know he doesn’t like seeing Harry like this, Draco.”

“Oh, and I do?” The words came out scathing, and Draco winced at the look on Hermione’s face.

“I didn’t say that,” she said, quietly. After several moments, Hermione spoke up again. “Draco, have you considered having him hospitalized?”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Draco muttered, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “Why is everyone asking me that?”

“Because we’re concerned,” Hermione replied. She bit her lip in a way that reminded Draco of Harry, and he smiled. Hermione noticed and was slightly relieved. “After all, taking care of him is putting a huge strain on you. If you just let professionals take care of him, I’m sure—”

“No,” Draco said, cutting her off. “Absolutely not. I will not let some strangers take care of Harry.”

Hermione sighed. “Why not, Draco?”

He glared at her. “Because that’s a shitty way to repay him after all he’s done.”

Hermione grimaced. “It’s not that bad, Draco. Other people will take care of him, and you can be—”

“Shut it, Granger,” Draco snapped. “I have no intention handing Harry over to some wizards who are more interested in gawking at him than helping him.”

Hermione exhaled loudly. “Fine.” She stood and began buttoning her coat. “I’ll just be leaving, then.”

Draco nodded. “See you.”

Hermione apparated out, leaving a pop and a small puff of smoke in her wake. Draco closed his eyes and leaned back into the couch. He stayed there for almost half an hour until finally his conscience got the better of him and he got up to check on Harry.

As he passed the kitchen, he noticed a manila envelope sitting on the table. Draco walked over and picked it up, examining the envelope. There were no identifying marks on the outside, though, so he pulled out the contents and began to rifle through them. He read the title of the first paper and then the second. They were forms for admitting a patient to St. Mungo’s. Draco scowled and shoved all the papers back into the envelope. He threw it into the trash on his way to the bedroom.

“Harry?” Draco asked after opening the bedroom door. He walked through and knelt in front of the brunette lying on the bed. “How are you feeling, hm?”

Harry’s eyes closed and then reopened after a moment. His gaze seemed to be focused on some point just outside the window. He breathed shallowly, chest rising and falling in a painfully slow rhythm.

“All right, then.” Draco sat down on the floor and folded his arms on the bedspread. He leaned his head on his folded hands and looked at Harry. “Hermione just left. She said Weasley’s coming over later, but we both know how likely _that_ is. She wanted me to put you in a hospital, if you can believe that. And here I thought she was the only one of our friends that really understood . . . ah, well. Can’t be helped, I suppose. No one understands, Harry. We’ve just got to accept that . . . And you’ll never believe it. She actually had the _nerve_ to leave forms on the kitchen table for putting you in St. Mungo’s! Honestly, what was she _thinking_? I mean, sure, I could understand it if I had asked her to, but to just bring them over out of nowhere like that . . . it’s just unthinkable. And rude, too. I mean, who is she to tell us how to lead our lives? If we want to live together, why is it such a big _problem_ for everyone? It’s not like they’ve got it worse off if I’m taking care of you—not that _I_ have it worse off, mind, just that, you know, some people might think that it’s annoying or troublesome, taking care of you . . . But I don’t. Of course I don’t think that, Harry. I love you. I _want_ to take care of you.” Draco paused for breath and he heard Harry mumbling. He leaned closer so he could make out the words.

“The voices in my head are snoring.”

Draco cracked a smile and started laughing. He leaned forward and kissed Harry on the cheek. “Pretending, are you?” he asked, darting his tongue out to touch Harry’s skin.

“. . . Snoring, snoring . . . The voices in my head are snoring, snoring . . .” Harry’s voice was barely a whisper, and his lips continued to move even after the words had died away.

Draco continued laughing. He laughed until his throat hurt and his eyes burned, until he tasted something wet and salty on his lips. Then he stopped abruptly and stood up.

“Of course you are,” he said, swallowing. “Of course you are.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Right after he apparated home the next day, he knew something was wrong. A sinking feeling in his gut propelled him towards Harry’s room, and he threw the door open with a loud bang.

“Harry?”

Hermione was sitting on Harry’s bed, calmly staring at him.

“Hermione? What are you doing here?” Draco’s gaze darted around the room, finally coming to rest on Hermione again. “Where’s Harry?”

Hermione stood up and looked directly at Draco. “In St. Mungo’s, Draco.”

Draco blinked. “What?” Panic swept over him then, and he strode forward quickly. “Why? What happened? Is he sick? Is he all right? Is he hurt? What’s going on?”

Hermione swallowed. “He’s not hurt, Draco, but he _is_ sick.”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked, halting in front of her. “I don’t understand.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “I had him institutionalized, Draco.”

Several seconds passed while Draco contemplated what to do. Finally, he stepped away from her. “You didn’t,” he said, even though he knew it was true.

She nodded. “I did. I had to.”

Draco shook his head and sneered. “You didn’t _have_ to. You _wanted_ to.”

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “I didn’t.”

“Of course you did.”

“But I had to do it.”

“You’ve been dying to take him away from me.”

“He needs to be somewhere they can help him.”

“Ever since we got together, you’ve been waiting for this.”

“You weren’t going to do it, so I had to.”

“You selfish bitch.”

“I had to do it.”

“You took him away from me.”

“It had to be done.”

“Fuck that!” Draco screamed. He shoved Hermione, hard, and she fell backwards onto the bed. “And fuck you!”

“Draco!” she yelled. “You don’t understand, it was the only—”

She pushed herself back up and stopped speaking when she noticed the empty room. Then she stood up, closed her eyes, and apparated to St. Mungo’s.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Where is he?!”

Hermione turned around at the shout and found Draco leaning over the counter, practically spitting in the Welcome Witch’s face. The plump blonde witch gaped at him and seemed to be somewhat incapable of speech.

“Draco!” Hermione shouted, rushing towards him. She grabbed his arms and pulled him away from the witch. “Draco! Would you stop acting like this?!”

Draco turned to her. “Where is he, Hermione?! I need to see him!”

Hermione swallowed and nodded. “Here, come with me.”

She led the way to the Janus Thickey Ward on the fourth floor, Draco following half a step behind. Once they got there, Draco walked ahead of her and waited for her to catch up. Hermione walked almost to the end of the corridor and stood in front of Harry’s door. She would have said something then, except that Draco had already opened the door and gone through it. She began to walk into the room, but then she stopped. Instead, she turned around and left, closing the door behind her. There was nothing else she could do now. Draco had to accept this on his own. So Hermione leaned against the outside wall and waited.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco walked into the albino room, noting the lack of color with disapproval. Then he saw Harry lying on the bed, and all other thoughts fled from his mind.

He walked over to the bed and sat in the chair placed beside it. Harry was faced the other way, towards the window. It was open, and a cool breeze was drifting in, moving both the curtains and stray pieces of Harry’s hair. Draco concentrated on the movement of Harry’s hair.

“Hey,” he whispered. Harry didn’t move, and Draco swallowed. “I came by to see you.” He waited for a response, and then went on. “I’m sorry about what happened. If I had been there, I could have done something. I promise I’ll get you out of here as soon as I can, okay?”

Draco waited for a response. For anything, really. A word, a sound, a movement.

“Okay?” he repeated, eyes on Harry’s hair still moving with the light breeze.

Harry’s chest didn’t even move as he breathed, and suddenly Draco thought that maybe he wasn’t breathing. Maybe Harry had died in here, thinking that Draco didn’t love him, that Draco wanted him gone.

But of course that was impossible. If Harry had been dead, the Healers would have known immediately about it and wouldn’t have set him up in this room. They would have carted him off on a stretcher to a room somewhere to stick him in a freezer until they took him out, combed his hair, put him in a suit, stuffed him in a box, and threw dirt over that box until even if Harry had been alive, he would have died from lack of oxygen anyway.

“Okay, Harry?”

The breeze began to lessen. The curtains drifted down and barely moved. Harry’s hair began to settle down, small bits of it still fighting for freedom.

Draco swallowed. He couldn’t do this anymore. He knew that. But it was so hard to let go. So hard to just tell Harry goodbye and leave him there. Draco leaned forward and kissed the back of Harry’s head. Then he got up and left the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Hermione asked.

Draco ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Honestly, Granger, how many times do I have to say it? I’m _fine_.” At Hermione’s disbelieving look, Draco rolled his eyes. “Really. I’m fine.”

Hermione nodded and kept walking back to the entrance of St. Mungo’s. “They have visiting hours every day, so you can see him whenever you want to.” Draco raised an eyebrow at her. “All right, so maybe not _whenever_ you want to, but close enough.” They continued walking, and Hermione sighed. “And anyway, now you won’t be responsible for paying for his medical supplies. All that’s taken care of here.” Draco kept on walking beside her, silent except for the light clacking of his shoes on the tiled floor. “Now maybe you can find a better job than dancing at some sleazy club,” she muttered.

Draco stopped. “What?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, eyes widening. “Nothing, I just—”

“You knew?” Draco asked.

Hermione shrugged. “Well, yeah.” She swallowed. “Blaise saw you the other night, and he told me about it.”

“Ah.”

They kept on walking. Hermione looked at the portraits as they passed them, some commenting to her on her frizzy hair. Many a portrait told Draco that his pale complexion and the lines under his eyes were symptoms of one serious disease or another. Both of them ignored the paintings and concentrated on leaving as soon as possible.

“We figured you’d rather not work there anymore, and we knew the only reason you were was for Harry, for the money, and since you don’t—”

“I get it.”

“But we only wanted to help, and really, Harry _needs_ to be in here, anyway. He’s so—”

“Really, Hermione. You don’t have to explain.”

She nodded. “Right then.” She cleared her throat and kept walking. “Right.”

They left the hospital minutes later, parting at the door. They both apparated away at the same time, and so Hermione only saw Draco’s face for a fraction of an instant before she disappeared with a pop.

She thought there were tears on his cheeks, but then she had an overactive imagination, and it wouldn’t be like Draco to cry in front of others, anyway.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Okay.”

The word shattered the silence of the room. There was an expectant pause, and then a deep breath.

“Okay.”

Harry’s lips moved but no more sound came out. After several minutes of this, he blinked rapidly. He swallowed and felt a cold, hard lump in his chest.

“Draco?”

It was barely a whisper, but what was left of the breeze carried it away. Then the breeze stopped completely. Harry’s lips and hair stopped moving, and the curtain dropped.

 

_Fin._


End file.
